


the law sins and the devil rewards

by possibilityleft



Category: Original Work
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Cyberpunk Noir, Cyborgs, Detective Noir, Drag Queen, Extra Treat, F/M, Gen, Multi, Mystery, Noir Patische, Nonbinary Character, Queer Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:27:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27019528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/possibilityleft/pseuds/possibilityleft
Summary: The boyfriend had been missing for three days before the dame made it to Nor's door.  Either he'd run out on her, or he was underground.  Could be both.  It was easy to disappear from this city.  It was harder to be found.
Relationships: Nonbinary Cyborg Noir Detective (Original Work)/Nonbinary Bartender (Original Work), The Dame (Original Work)/Her Beau (Original Work)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9
Collections: Trick or Treat Exchange 2020





	the law sins and the devil rewards

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shadaras](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadaras/gifts).



> The title is from a quote by James Lendall Basford.

Nor replaced their chest with steel. They replaced their heart with a pump. Sometimes they lay awake late at night, unable to sleep. In-between the wailing of sirens and the call of people on the streets, they thought that they heard the click of the pump as it worked dutifully to keep them alive.

They didn't have cyber ears, yet. The technology was not worth the time. Still, click, click.

Nor thought about the case when they couldn't sleep. There was always a case. This one was from a drag queen. She strode into Nor's office wearing twelve-inch heels, her hair impeccable. Her eyes were dark and dangerous. A dame. It was always the dames that came to see them. The other detectives wouldn't give the dame the time of day -- not the kind of dames that came to Nor's door, the kind in wigs or bowties, with perfectly pressed curls or buzz cuts. The ones who fell in-between still needed to be found.

"My boyfriend is gone," the queen said. She plucked a photo from her clutch and handed it to Nor over their desk. The bodice of her dress was cut straight down to her bellybutton and Nor could see what she kept inside -- a marvel of engineering in cloth padding, so gravity-defying that her breasts were pointed at Nor's chin. There was a gleam of gold that Nor tried to ignore, to be polite.

Nor took the photo from her in one cybernetic hand. The ears weren't worth the trouble, but the hand had gotten her out of a lot of it. The hand, shiny and silver, was capable of solving some difficult disagreements. But it could be delicate, when needed.

"What's his name?" Nor asked. 

Twelve hours later, they hung their trenchcoat up by the door, soaked to the bone by the pissing rain. The drag queen's beau had last been seen by the stockyards; he was known to greet the sailors. Nor had their suspicions, but they hoped they were wrong.

They had made a pit-stop at their office to call Frankie and see if they had heard anything. Frankie worked at Nor's favorite bar; they were a great listener. They listened every time Nor said nothing to them, and sometimes, went home with them, and said nothing back. But tonight it was business and Nor heard the raucous, swelling shouts of the crowd when Frankie answered the phone.

"Haven't had any sailors in here tonight," Frankie told them. "No new ships since Tuesday."

So there were no ships, and none going out when the weather was like this, the fog as heavy as a rich man's turkey at Christmastime. Nor stripped out of their wet clothes and threw them into their bathtub. They threw on an undershirt and some boxers, and then ran a comb through their hair, but it went right back to falling into their eyes. They needed a fresh buzz. They lay down in their bed and thought about the case.

They shut their eyes. The boyfriend had been missing for three days before the dame made it to Nor's door. Either he'd run out on her, or he was underground. Could be both. It was easy to disappear from this city. It was harder to be found.

They flexed their cybernetic hand, and then their other one. They scratched at the lip where their metal chest met their flesh. Frankie said no one would notice the seam if they got it painted, just like Frankie had. Frankie even had nipples drawn on. Nor didn't care enough for that, but sometimes their body itched so badly they wanted to escape it.

They opened their eyes. The neon in the window of the bar across the street shaded their hand green. They were missing something important.

The ring. The signet ring, gold and garish, on the right hand of the boyfriend in the photo. The same signet ring that now hung on a slim gold chain under the drag queen's dress, nestled against her chest and hidden, mostly, by the pads. It had just been a glimpse, a gleam, but Nor knew then what had happened. Bold as brass for the queen to hire them, to cover her bruises with powder and kohl and toss the gun into the river. The body -- well, someone would probably find it someday, maybe in the back of the queen's closet, stuffed in a trunk. Nor had seen stranger things in their time. They'd seen that exact scenario, in fact.

 _I did everything I could_ , Nor mouthed to themself, remembering what the drag queen had said, her ruby red lips. _I tried so hard._

Nor didn't like wild goose chases. But the queen had paid ahead, which honestly should have made them suspicious to start with. Not especially well, but it was something. They were still paying off the repairs to their hand after the Peking Garden fiasco.

So they guessed they'd let it go. See if the queen came back. They always had a derringer in the secret pocket of their thigh, after all. Most people never knew. But Nor never forgot.


End file.
